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Postmodern pancakes

The one time I went to Shopsin’s, I don’t remember what I ordered except that it was exceedingly normal. It was for breakfast, and I got potato shreds, some kind of eggs, and maybe some kind of toast, and probably orange juice.

Before I talk about Kenny Shopsin’s book, here’s the background, courtesy of Calvin Trillin. Shopsin’s is a NYC cult restaurant with an encyclopedic menu that is like a cross-section of the brain of eccentric and foulmouthed proprietor Kenny Shopsin.

Anyway, Shopsin has a book out now. It’s called Eat Me, and I think it’s a classic. The food is good; the language is colorful; and it has personality out the ying-yang. I have only one big complaint about the book, which I’ll get to in a minute.

Kenny Shopsin thinks about food a lot. He doesn’t seem to care about anything other than whether it’s fun to make and tastes good. Therefore he reminds me a lot of myself, albeit an older and more psychotic version of myself. To make crepes, he dips flour tortillas in eggs and cream. I tried this and it’s awesome.

Shopsin’s serves like six dozen kinds of pancakes. Here is a list of them, recited by Iris:

Postmodern pancakes are pancakes with chopped up pancakes in the batter. Looking at the current menu, it looks like he’s added a whole category of pancakes with candy bar chunks in the batter.

Which brings me to my big complaint. Kenny recommends Aunt Jemima frozen pancake batter. It appears that this is a wholesale product and if I want some I have to buy a commercial quantity. I could be wrong about this. Anyone seen it in a store? I totally want to try it.

Eat Me is not all breakfast. Kenny has many uncensored thoughts on burgers, sandwiches, salads, and other diner classics. This book is so much fun.

7 thoughts on “Postmodern pancakes”

Also, for the last two days, I haven’t been able to get postmodern pancakes OFF MY MIND. I think I’m going to make them for dinner tonight. That’s really stupid, because a. they have almost zero nutritional value, and b. I don’t have the excuse (which I’m guessing was the genesis for postmodern pancakes) of having leftover pancakes to use up. I don’t even expect them to be GOOD. I just WANT THEM. This is not good, mamster.

Nicole, Kathleen and I can report that postmodern pancakes, at least as made by me, are basically indistinguishable in taste and mouthfeel from classic pancakes. (Probably if I was still in college and in the zone I could write a thesis about that.)